


Skinny Genes

by Laiquilasse



Series: How to Court an Omega [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha John, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Comfort, Comfort Sex, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Omega Sherlock, Omegalock, Omegaverse, Oral Sex, PWP, Pregnant Sex, References to Knotting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 12:44:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8208466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laiquilasse/pseuds/Laiquilasse
Summary: Semi-Sequel to 'Heirs and Spares'. PWP, sorry not sorry.Sherlock is five months pregnant, and feeling sorry for himself. He's worried John doesn't find him attractive anymore. John is more than happy to prove him wrong.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Whilst I recommend reading 'Heirs and Spares' before reading this, it isn't essential. Knock yourselves out!

Sherlock's black skinny jeans didn't fit him anymore. John noticed they hadn't been through the wash in a few weeks. His mate hadn't mentioned it. 

He found the jeans hanging up in the wardrobe they shared, along with several tight t-shirts he hadn't seen in a while. He didn't miss them, exactly, but they were absent. Proof of the changes that were going on.

That night, as John sat reading in bed, he kept half an eye on Sherlock. The bathroom door was open a crack, and John could see the teenage omega running a hand over his chest, down to his rounding stomach. Five months. And barely showing, but that was because Sherlock was physically fit. He had months yet to blossom. He’s get rounder and his hips would splay a little, and his nipples would darken and swell, and…

God, he was going to look even more beautiful than usual. 

Sherlock clicked the light off and padded into the bedroom in a baggy tshirt and boxer shorts, getting under the covers quickly, snuggling into them like a nest. 

John closed his book. "Want a cuddle?"

"Mm."

He turned off the bedside light and lay down, being the big spoon even though Sherlock was taller, wrapping an arm over his chest. He inhaled the scent at the healed site of his mate's bonding bite. "I love you."

"Love you," Sherlock said, sleepily. He backed into John a little, his arse settling in John's crotch. "So tired..."

"It's because you're growing a person." John stroked down Sherlock's tummy. “It’s hard work carting yourself and someone else around. You’re doing so well, lovely…” he stroked over the bump, feeling for flutters beneath Sherlock’s skin.

The omega went very still. "John..."

"What's wrong?" John took his hand away immediately. "Sherlock, what is it?"

Sherlock buried his nose in the covers. "Just... Feeling a bit off."

"Off? Sick again? I thought that had stopped. Are you being sick again?"

"Not sick, I mean..." Sherlock huffed a breath and turned his head a little. "I mean... I don't want to be touched there, right now."

"On your stomach?"

"Mm."

John frowned in the dark. "Why?"

"Just don't."

"Sherlock."

"Let me go to sleep, John. I'm exhausted."

"Alright," John returned his embrace to no lower than Sherlock's chest. "But you have to talk to me about this at some point. Ok? No secrets. We're bonded."

Sherlock made a noise that could have meant anything. 

 

*

 

The ‘don’t touch me’ mood continued for another week, and in that time John kept quiet – observing. Sherlock would leave half of his breakfast and walk to the library, and come back in time for dinner, which he mostly swirled around his plate rather than ate. He lay on the sofa in apparent misery every evening, sipping water and keeping his hands up near his face, away from his tummy.

Things came to a head one Sunday morning.

John was pretending to mess about on his phone as Sherlock got dressed. The omega’s bump was distinctly round as he bent over to pick his jeans off the floor, and he put a hand to his back as he straightened. Sherlock stepped into his jeans and pulled them up, pausing when he got to his fly.

John lowered his phone.

Sherlock breathed in, trying to bring the button closed, leaning back to try and shuffle the trousers down his hips to a slimmer part, but it was no good. The button popped out of the hole and the trousers hung dejectedly open, like a burst bag.

If Sherlock hadn’t been biting his lip to hold back tears, John might have laughed, it did genuinely look funny. But this wasn’t the time. He got out of bed and went to hold his mate.

“Hey, you’re ok –”

Sherlock shook his head quickly hiding his face in John’s shoulder. “’s’not ok.”

“Sherlock, I know it’s strange, your body changing, but it’s nothing to get –”

“I look _horrible_!” Sherlock pushed him away. “And I’m going to look worse!”

John caught him by the elbows. “Sherlock Watson-Holmes, you do not look horrible. You look bloody gorgeous, and you’re going to end up so beautiful you drive me insane!”

“You have to say that,” Sherlock brushed at his eyes. “You…” He sniffed, and looked down at his sad attempt at dressing himself. “You chose me over Mycroft because of how I looked, and now I’m turning into some fat omega-mummy, and you’re not going to…” his voice turned into a sad squeak.

John blushed, a sick guilt growing under his skin. “You know that’s a half-truth. I fancied you at first because you’re beautiful, yes. But for one, I never could have carried things on it I hadn’t been falling in love with your personality and your amazing mind. And two, you have no idea how sexy you are. Not a damn clue.” John shook his head and dropped to his knees, pressing his nose into Sherlock’s tiny bump, inhaling. “I want to scent you all the time, touch you all the time because you’re mine and she’s ours and we made her and you’re growing her and it’s just _magic_.” He breathed in the smell of Sherlock’s skin.

Sherlock sniffed, letting his hands drop to John’s shoulders. “But…”

“But nothing, lovely. You get more beautiful every day.”

“But I’m not… I’m going to get so… _round_ ,” Sherlock went red as John looked up at him.

John smiled. “I can’t wait.”

“But didn’t you prefer me when I was… flat?”

“No,” John kissed the bump. “It’s not a case of preferring you this way or that. You’re my mate, Sherlock. The man I loved before I bit you or slid a ring onto your finger. I love you now, aged nineteen, and I’ll love you when you’re ninety, if I’m still around.”

“You will be,” Sherlock said. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“And I’ll love you every day in between,” John nuzzled the soft bump again. “Both of you. The fact that you’re doing this is the most beautiful thing of all, Sherlock. I don’t want you to feel sad that you need new jeans. I get that you are, and it’s ok, it’s a valid feeling, but I wish you didn’t. And I don’t want you to think I’m not going to want you. Ever.”

Sherlock nodded, touching John’s hair. “You know, Mycroft was made to lose weight before you met?”

“He said so, yes.”

“Siger said alphas don’t like fat, homely omegas. That that’s why alphas take mistresses.”

“Your dad has a lot to learn,” John dragged his nose around Sherlock’s belly button. “I’m going to love his son until the end of time even if he’s huge and pregnant with triplets.”

“Oh god,” Sherlock laughed. “Don’t curse it!”

“I hope it’s quads, next time,” John said, mockingly serious. “Quins. Sextuplets, and you’ve got the loveliest, roundest tummy in the whole world.”

Sherlock covered his face and laughed, fighting back happy tears. “John, stop it!”

“Ok, I’ll stop,” he smiled. “Stop teasing you, anyway. You’re slightly distracting, anyway,” he started to kiss down the bump again, this time his hands on the open denim, pulling gently.

Sherlock took his hands from his face. “Oh…”

“Yeah?”

“Yes…”

John pushed the tight jeans down, over the perfect globe of Sherlock’s arse, squeezing the muscle through his black boxer-briefs, dragging two fingers in the cleft, making Sherlock shudder and put his hands on John’s hair.

“John..?”

“You want to lie down?”

“I’m ok.”

John nodded, hooking his fingers over the elastic of Sherlock’s briefs and pulling them down to mid-thigh, exposing his slim cock, which was already rather erect. “Looks like you’re more than ok, to me.”

“Shut up,” Sherlock gave John’s hair a pull, then gasped, kneels buckling slightly as John took him into his mouth. Alphas did not, as a rule, give head to their omegas – it was a submissive gesture that was generally only seen in fetish porn. But John loved doing it, loved hearing Sherlock’s moans, feeling the tentative thrusts into his mouth, though Sherlock’s erection was too small to ever slide down his throat, it wasn’t for the want of trying.

Sherlock couldn’t keep his hips still, twitching them back and forth to fuck John’s mouth, his breath coming in little moans that he didn’t seem capable of stopping.

John buried his nose in the wiry black hair at Sherlock’s crotch, inhaling the scent of arousal and Sherlock and bonding and love. He rolled his tongue, teasing over the hardness in his mouth, swallowing excess saliva and tasting pre-come at the back of his throat. Sherlock’s hands tightened on his skull as John bobbed his head, hands on Sherlock’s arse cheeks, pulling and massaging them apart, dipping a finger between then occasionally as a tease, making Sherlock’s cock throb in the heat of his mouth.

“John – I –”

John hummed, sucking hard, hollowing out his cheeks and listening to Sherlock’s desperate cries, pulling off an instant before Sherlock came, the limited amount of come catching John on the chin and throat, making him grin at the half-horrified, half-aroused look on his mate’s face.

“Oh…” Sherlock reached, smearing the stuff from John’s chin in an apologetic manner. “Sorry…”

“Don’t say sorry,” John pulled his t-shirt off and wiped down his neck and chin with it. He stood and took Sherlock’s lips, letting a hand drop down to Sherlock’s spent cock, holding the softening member gently, rubbing his thumb over the skin before lowering his touch to slip between Sherlock’s legs. “I love you.” Their stomachs pressed together, and John felt the watery motion of a baby turning over beneath his mate’s flesh.

“Love… you…” Sherlock tried bending a little to aid John’s touches, but standing made it awkward, and he still had his trousers and pants around his legs. “John, I need to lie back.”

“Ok,” John took his hand away. “Here…” he helped Sherlock perch on the edge of the bed, stripping him quickly of his legwear and socks, putting a gentle hand to his sternum and pushing him onto his back. “Would you like to lie on your side?”

“Yes,” Sherlock did so, looking over his shoulder as John took his own clothes off, his erect alpha cock drawing Sherlock’s eyes as if he’d never seen it before. Sherlock hadn’t had a heat since they bonded, as he was pregnant, and although they still had penetrative sex, it wasn’t often, as Sherlock simply wasn’t designed to deal with a knot outside of heats.

John gripped himself with a hand, working his foreskin back as Sherlock’s pink tongue darted between his lips, watching. It was enough to send a jolt of need through them both, and John’s nose picked up the scent of omega slick. Not in the gushing quantities of a heat, but enough to betray Sherlock’s continuing arousal. He climbed up on the bed behind his mate, spooning up behind him, and placed his cock in the space just below Sherlock’s arse, rubbing just against his perineum as he gently parted his arse cheeks to touch.

“You smell so good,” John breathed. He dipped a finger to touch at Sherlock’ softening entrance, the smooth and mildly swollen skin so utterly inviting. “Can I?”

“Please,” Sherlock let his head drop onto the mattress. “Please, my John.”

John pushed his middle finger inside, meeting no resistance as the smooth slick aided his penetration. The warmth and strong muscular grip made him sigh in need, his cock throbbing where it was secured between Sherlock’s legs. John rocked his hips a little, just taking the edge off his need as he added a second finger to Sherlock. “You feel amazing,” John whispered. “I love you so much. You’re so good for me, Sherlock. So wet. So soft. I can’t wait to slide inside you, feel your wet heat on my cock…”

Sherlock moaned, hiding his face even as his cock started to stiffen again. “John…”

“I’m not rushing, lovely, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“But I need you!”

John smiled, kissing and dragging his teeth over Sherlock’s bond-bite as he gently finger-fucked him. “I know, I need you, too.” He curled his fingers around to the sweet bundle of nerves inside his mate, and Sherlock melted beneath him, shuddering and crying out, hand going to hold his arse-cheeks apart, rutting forward as his cock responded to the lingering prostate massage.

“John!”

“You’re so responsive,” John murmured, rubbing over the spot again, back and forth with a steady hand that was giving Sherlock such torturous pleasure. “Such a good omega, I can feel you getting wetter for me… maybe you’ll take my knot this time? Stretch you open and fill you up so tight you feel like you’re stuck on me forever… god, I’m going to get so deep inside you…”

Sherlock was a mess, hand moving between his pregnant belly and his arse, not knowing what to hold onto, not knowing of caring how loud and filthy his moans were, how he was making John rut between his legs in near desperation.

It was almost too much.

John withdrew his fingers, smearing the slick onto his erection before pressing the thick head of his cock to the soaking, soft and welcoming entrance of his mate. “Breathe out?”

“Mm,” Sherlock took a breath, then slowly puffed it out as John slid inside him with a groan.

“Fuck,” John bit down onto Sherlock’s bond-bite. “Oh, god, Sherlock, you’re so…”

“Yes,” Sherlock tried to hold his own leg up, but he couldn’t.

John rolled his hips back, easing into position on his side, hooking at arm under Sherlock’s knee to hold his leg up, his arse open and stretching around his cock, with the growing knot at the base, just slipping in and out of the moaning omega. He kissed Sherlock’s cheek. “Don’t hide your face, beautiful. I want to watch your face as I fuck you.”

Sherlock turned, making eye contact. His face betrayed the pleasure in his arse as John began slowly fucking him, gliding out almost to his tip before plunging back into the sweet vacuum he had created. Sherlock was blushing, sweating and gasping as John’s cock pressed and rubbed against his prostate, drawing out pleasure that made him sob.

John’s pace quickened, his thrusts becoming firmer as his knot swelled, slipping in and out of Sherlock’s arse with the tiniest degree of difficulty. “Sherlock,” he forced out, “Do you want me to try – you have to tell me –”

“No,” Sherlock shook his head, holding John’s hand.

“Ok…” John’s thrusts became shallower as he changed his angle, stopping his knot slipping inside Sherlock anymore until forcing it in would have been dangerous. Oh god, he was so close… “Fuck,” he reached around for Sherlock’s leaking cock, and gently squeezed, thumbing over the soaking glans.

Sherlock came with a surprised cry, his arse clamping around John’s cock and squeezing an orgasm from the alpha, who thrust mildly in and out of his mate, filling him with come that, if he hadn’t been pregnant already, would have guaranteed an embryo.

“God, I love you,” John pulled Sherlock close, a hand on his baby bump, kissing his bond-bite, scenting his hair and neck, kissing every bit of skin he could reach. “Do you believe me, now? That I still want you?”

“Mm,” Sherlock closed his eyes. “I might need more convincing, I’m not sure.”

“You’re a pest,” John withdrew, come and slick leaking from Sherlock’s entrance and soaking the sheets. “But I don’t have any objections.”

“Good,” Sherlock rolled onto his back. “John…Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Sherlock.”

“I mean… I’m glad. You’re mine. You’re here, and you’re mine.”

“And you’re mine,” John kissed him, smiling as something kicked his hand where it lay on Sherlock’s stomach. “Well, I might as well soak you up. I’m going to have to share you, soon enough.”

Sherlock grinned back, pushing John down to snuggle into his chest, catching a few moments of rest before, unknown to either of them just yet, he would straddle John’s cock and fuck himself spare on it.

They might as well, John thought as he stroked his mate’s hair. They wouldn’t get many more mornings like this one.


End file.
